Daniel’s jaw tightened. “Your father didn’t die in an accident. He was a whistleblower at Hawthorne Biotech—the corporation that owns this hospital. He uncovered falsified clinical trial data. Dangerous discrepancies. He copied everything onto an encrypted drive before they could silence him.”
Silence.
“They did silence him,” Daniel continued quietly. “But before he died, he hid the master drive among your childhood belongings. He knew they’d eventually come looking for you—specifically when you turned thirty.”
Yesterday had been my thirtieth birthday.
The alley felt like it was tilting.
“The explosion wasn’t a gas leak,” he said. “It was a cleanup operation. They believed you had the drive.”
“I don’t,” I whispered. “I’ve never seen—”
“You’ve been carrying it for months.”
He walked to the trash bin near the wall and retrieved the thermos I had given him the night before. My old thermos. The one I’d found in a dusty box after moving into the apartment—a relic from childhood camping trips with my dad.
Daniel twisted the base. The bottom detached smoothly.
Inside was a small silver drive.
I stared at it, numb.